Bonsoir from Paris! Yes, I survived that seemingly endless plane ride that lasted a whole 13 hours by my lonesome self. My landlady turned up as planned (she didn’t reply me the three days before I arrived) and my apartment is great. Tiny but great.
I’ve been here three days and I feel so knackered everyday. And it’s not even as if I rise and rest with the sun. I previously downloaded this app to track my running times and distance covered and they have this thing called walking mate. The goal is to hit 10,000 steps per day. Let’s just put it that covering this many steps a day in Paris is too easy peasy. I doubt I actually cover this kind of distance back in Singapore. I mean, I strained my back from just walking after day two. Loser or what hahaha.
The day I arrived was almost overwhelming. You should have seen the way my eyes lit up when I saw him waiting for me at the bus stop. Spineless girl. He bought me a carnet of train tickets as a welcome gift (practicality means so much more to me than romance) and grabbed my 24kg luggage from the get go. We spent an hour getting from the bus stop to my place, and this hour consisted of him carrying said luggage up and down multiple flights of stairs to and in the metro stations, pulling it across unforgiving cobblestones and treacherous traffic. All this without a word of complaint and with a smile plastered on his face. Thinking back now, I may have misconstrued the smile as a grimace. Oh well.
He brought me grocery shopping, cooked me lunch and dinner and is the best guide ever. I would totally ask him to marry me that instant but looks like we’re not meant to be.
But of course life never is smooth-sailing. He walks way too fast (and I’m considered quite a fast walker) to the point of me trailing behind him every single day. Which means we’re barely talking because he’s so intent on getting to our destination. Honestly, that cheesed me off today. We’re on holiday for God’s sake, not some speed walking competition. If I wanted to train myself for some marathon or mountain climbing, I wouldn’t have spent so much money and travelling thousands of kilometers to do so.
Everyone who knows me knows I’m terrible with directions. I’ve lived in Singapore all my life and I still need help getting around. On the world map, we’re just a tiny red dot and yet I’m having difficulties. Despite driving for two years covering the same territories, I still need to rely on my GPS to get to certain work areas. And did I also mention I cannot read maps for nuts? I rely on the GPS telling me where to go; turn left in 200 metres, make a u-turn at the next junction.
So it’s nothing short of pressurising when he assured me I’d know my way around in two days. Well, it’s day three and I still can’t find my way around my neighborhood. I can sense that he’s slightly frustrated with me (though he still worries about me getting lost) but here’s the newsflash: I’M MORE FRUSTRATED OK.
Bad enough he’s ditching me next week but I really cannot recognise my way around. And it also doesn’t help that English is not the first language. I can foresee myself cooping myself in and around my neighborhood. Which sucks because I can coop myself at home 10,722km back instead.
I’m not sure what are my exact plans in the coming weeks ahead. I’m praying the god of directions will anoint me with some of his powers. In the mean time while we wait for a miracle to happen to me, here are some pictures. Be jealous.